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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032647">Jason and the Crowbar Round 2</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver__Hawk/pseuds/Silver__Hawk'>Silver__Hawk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Batbrothers (DCU), Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Angst (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Whump, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Self-Esteem Issues, Worried Batfamily (DCU)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:01:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032647</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver__Hawk/pseuds/Silver__Hawk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After being captured and beaten (again) within an inch of his life, Jason is forced to swallow his pride and call his sometimes helpful sometimes pain in the neck bat themed allies for help. He thought he'd be patched up and sent on his merry way.... Or kicked out once again. He never expected for the entire family to band together to catch his tormentors and launch operation 'bring Jason home for good' while he's too incapacited to do anything about it.  </p><p>(Gratuitous and totally self indulgent Jason whump) (Batfamily fluff with a touch of angst) (warning for Jason's self loathing,)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>765</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rain pattered against the top of his cracked red helmet, seeping into the fissure and dripping into his eyes, down his cheeks, and pooling where his mask tucked under his chin. The rough concrete bit into his legs and palms, ribs rattling and creaking with every breath. It burned and ached, sharp stabs of pain lancing through his sides and chest. He could get back, get to his safe house and wrap his ribs.</p><p>He needed to get out of the rain, get up. Tightening his jaw, he grit his teeth and tried to sit up without jostling his broken bones too much. A muffled scream filled the alley, bones shifting under the skin, bumping into each other awkwardly. His vision faded to black, ears ringing like he'd just been boxed. Measuring his breath, he saw that much to both his fortune and misfortune he'd landed <em>next</em> to the mottled green dumpster. With one arm, he gripped the lip of the bin with one gloved hand, digging his fingers in and trying to rise.</p><p>It was a mistake. It felt like someone had driven a pin through his knee cap, the muscle refusing to take any weight. The world tilted sideways, the dumpster doing a one eighty on its axis as he went boneless, rough cement slamming into his back. The already battered ribs screamed, muscles in his chest going tight and failing to let him drag in another breath. He gasped like a fish, rasping and wheezing as the black ebbed into his vision. He needed help. He hated it, but there was no way he was gonna make it the twenty block jog to his nearest safehouse.</p><p>No. He wasn't gonna call the bats. He didn't freaking need their help. He'd be just fine on his own. Biting his lip, he tried again, forcing a ragged breath into his lungs. This time he made it up, took a few wobbly steps, and the pain made his stomach rebel. He heard it churn, knees giving out and cement biting into his gloved palms as he collapsed, gagging. The ribs ground together as his stomach evicted his last meal- ramen noodles- into his helmet. He gagged, tearing it off and letting the rain pelt his sweaty head. He gagged again, pain lancing through his chest, stomach churning, throat burning like the pit all over again.</p><p>Once the spell was over, his stomach settled slightly, replaced by a sharp cramping along both sides of his chest, an unrelenting stab of agony. His temple pressed against the cement as he stared at the blurry dumpster he'd only managed to escape by three lousy feet. He could pass out now, leave fate to whatever it had planned, or he could swallow his pride and accept that even the mighty Red Hood needed help.</p><p>Darn it all.</p><p>He hadn't talked to the bats in weeks, Bruce in nearly two months.</p><p>He coughed, eyes burning with sweat and blood and rain water. Two shaky fingers jerked to his brow, feeling the jagged cut in his skin. It was only a few inches, only one swift movement, and he was guaranteeing himself a few months of insistent pestering, three of Alfred's amazing home cooked meals a day, and a warm bed. But those were amenities the old Jason was entitled to... not this freak of nature that happened to wake up in a dead kid's body. </p><p>So his hand hit the cement, eyes blurring even worse. He could make it. He'd have to.</p><p>Garnering up the willpower of the kid that dragged himself through a warehouse after being battered by a relentless metal crowbar, he shoved his hand under him, keeping his ribs as still as possible as he rose to wobbly hands and knees. His elbows nearly gave out. He couldn't move his right leg.</p><p>With a frustrated cry, he forced himself to take a wobbly move forward. Everything hurt.</p><p>"<em>Hood Come in."</em></p><p>Jason went pale, eyes blurring. He was just going to ignore it, ignore the bat. It wouldn't be the first time. He focused, trying to take a breath and push himself a little more towards the exit to the alley way. Was he seriously going to drag himself twenty block on hands and knees?</p><p>
  <em>"Hood."</em>
</p><p>Bruce had that growl. It was a growl everyone knew meant that any and all patience had long taken a rain check. <em>Why?</em> Jason whined within the confines of his own mind. <em>Why not Red Robin? Why not the Demon Spawn? Why ME?</em></p><p>His breath stuttered weakly, and he realized much to his horror that he'd zoned out. He'd let himself go cross-eyed, glaring at the rough pavement.</p><p><em>"Red Hood, come in. I need some backup."</em> Silence.<em> "If you're out drinking again-"</em></p><p>The threat went unfinished. <em>I'll stick Alfred on you.</em> It didn't need to be said. Alfred was the watchdog of the family. <em>No smoking Master Jason. I shan't see you killing yourself once more. </em>Or. <em>You should see about attending group therapy about your substance Abuse. Alcohol damages your liver, young Master Jason.</em></p><p>Of course Jason had disregarded both suggestions. Certainly, he didn't smoke on the Manor ground much these days -because he wasn't there-; but he didn't have any plans on living long enough to die of lung cancer. None of the bats truly expected to die in their sleep, or of an old age heart attack.</p><p>His silence must have deterred the bat; because Batman didn't press any more. Great. Jason clutched his chest and let out a shuddering breath. He was so tired, limbs shaky, black waves trying to overtake his already tunneled vision.</p><p>Maybe he should call Bruce. No. Bruce was busy. Batman needed the Red Hood, not a screwed up kid who couldn't see straight. His arms finally gave out. He faceplanted, chin slamming into the ground and adding yet another injury to the ever growing list. He was too tired to move, in too much pain to breathe. He just wanted to curl up in a ball and never wake up.</p><p><em>"Hood, Red Robin made it... In case you were actually on your way here. I don't know what I did to tick you off; but-" </em>Bruce trailed off, clearly listening to chatter on another line. </p><p>Jason would have attempted a half lidded eye roll. Instead he just took another breath and got plunged into a mind numbingly painful coughing fit. By the end, every gasp was punctuated by a whimper. In the dim light, he could see tacky crimson staring back at him. Well crap. That much blood <em>did not</em> come from a split lip.</p><p>The rain was all but drowning him, the pain threatening to plunge him into a dark abyss, where'd he'd either be picked off by some wannabe gang boss or die of pneumothorax. He had to get over it. He wanted to squeeze a few more years out of this second chance before he kicked the bucket again. He swallowed thickly, fingers probing the comm device still lodge in his ear.</p><p>He hadn't considered the actual action of talking. He didn't have the air for it. He was fully aware that it came out as a strangled wheeze. "He--lp."</p><p>"<em>Jason!?"</em> Bruce was instantly on alert, the usual emotionless monotone replaced by a slightly worried grumble. <em>"Jason where are you?" </em>The Batman, Mr. 'No ID's in the field' had just foregone his number one rule, called Jason by name in a panic. Could he actually be worried about the screw up in the family?"</p><p>"I-" Jason bit back a groan. "C'nt." He could only handle one syllable words, barely. His lungs were about to crap out and give up. One of them was definitely sponging up blood, a strange pressure in his chest and the blood on the ground all the confirmation he needed.</p><p>
  <em>"I'm tracking you now. Don't move. Try and stay awake."</em>
</p><p>Jason scoffed, instantly regretting it. Try and stay awake huh? The next time Batman broke every rib in his old battle worn body, Jason would throw the same words back at him with a passionate fury. For now, he simply tried to comply. He had to consciously inhale and exhale, barely managing full breaths. He knew full well that it was a perfectly logical request, but he'd already tried to drag himself out of the alley.</p><p>His eyes slipped closed.</p><p>
  <em>"Hood. Stay awake."</em>
</p><p>How'd he know? Jason snapped his eyes open, breath sharpening slightly. Ah. <em>That's </em>how.</p><p>Bruce listened carefully to Jason's breathing, occasionally reminding him to stay awake, uttering continual assurances that he was getting close, that Jason would be fine. Somewhere, Jason wished he could fully believe him, barely clinging to the naive hope with the faith of a child, the faith of a mostly dead little robin. At some point, a nasty coughing fit lit his chest on fire once more, waking him up like a bucket of cold water and leaving him a whimpering moaning mess.</p><p>He swallowed, coppery blood coating the back of his throat. A hand cupped the side of his face, another grabbing his shoulder.</p><p>"Jason."</p><p>He fought to drag his eyelids open. The hand on the side of his cheek tapped lightly, jarring his teeth.</p><p>"Come on; wake up."</p><p>Jason wheezed, fingers digging into his palms as he sucked in a breath and managed to open his peepers. A soaked cowl was staring down at him, Batman's lips pressed into a worried frown.</p><p>"That's it."</p><p>"Bru-" He couldn't finish, clutching his stomach, color leeching from from his already pale face. "ah..."</p><p>"Don't try to talk." Bruce muttered, gently running his thumb along Jason's cheek bone. Jason hated it. Loved the gesture, but hated the thought that it belonged to a dead boy. Bruce kept talking. "I need to know what hurts. Blink once for yes, twice for no. Okay?"</p><p>Jason blinked once.</p><p>Bruce placed two hands on his head. Jason blinked twice. Bruce still felt for bumps, content when he didn't find one. They slid down his neck, checking for damage. None. He didn't have to see the blinking. He gently set his hands on Jason's shoulders. Two blinks. His hands slid down his arms. Once again, two. As soon as his fingers came lightly to rest on Jason's ribs, the boy flinched, blinking once and then screwing his shut tightly. His breathing hitched and stuttered momentarily before returning as ragged, borderline whimpers.</p><p>"Okay, okay, easy, Jason, easy. I got you." Bruce assured, internally blanching as he felt the sorry state of the boys ribs. They were warped, misshapen, clearly in a bad way. Jason shuddered weakly, flinching as the torrential downpour soaked his face. Bruce moved on, quickly. </p><p>He probed Jason's legs, and the kid's right knee earned a jerk. One blink. <em>Shouldn't a called. </em>Jason's mind spat viciously. <em>Hurts a whole lot more.</em> Bruce sucked a nearly inaudible breath in when his hand came away bloodied. Compartmentalize. The bleeding was sluggish. He still grabbed a pressure bandage from his utility belt and pressed it tightly to Jason's knee, ignoring another jolt from the kid and an aborted cry that died purely from lack of sufficient air.</p><p>"Stay with me, Jay. Does your back hurt?"</p><p>Jason's eyes fought to open. One sluggish blink. Bruce bit his lip. Then another, followed by a definite headshake no. Bruce let out a sigh. "Red Robin, get the stretcher from the car. He's been shot in the knee, suffering from pneumothorax...and Broken ribs... I don't want to try and walk him to the car." </p><p>Jason frowned weakly, watching two blurry Bruces waft in and out of vision. He felt useless, like a broken puppet, used and cast aside. Someone else was pulling the strings bow, and he couldn't do a darn thing about it. Bruce's head blocked the rain, at least most of it. Droplets dripped from his cowl's nose, his pale chin. Jason shuddered, the chill finally getting to him. Maybe it had seeped into his suit a long time ago; but he'd had yet to notice.</p><p>The loyal replacement jogged into vision, rolling the front seat gurney across the pavement until it had come to rest alongside him.</p><p>"Woah, Hood. You look like crap."</p><p>"Focus." Bruce snapped, kneeling back down next to Jason. "We're gonna move you, Jay." That's a nickname the dead robin hadn't heard in a while. "It's going to hurt. I want you to focus on breathing through it. Just try and relax." He ran his fingers through Jason's damp hair, knowing it couldn't possibly soothe the unbearable agony, but hoping it would still provide comfort. Jason meanwhile felt like the Batman was walking him through giving birth. If he wasn't in so much pain, he might have busted his gut laughing about it.</p><p>Batman had no idea why Jason was smirking.</p><p>The old bat gingerly scooped his second up, heart twinging at the muffled scream, planted firmly in his Kevlar clad shoulder. "Easy. Easy. Breathe." Bruce commanded, taking a few easy strides to the stretcher. He was old, old enough to feel the effects of lifting your full grown son. He ignored it, setting Jason carefully on the gurney. The boy twitched and jerked, half lidded glassy eyes fighting a losing battle.</p><hr/><p>Jason came to in the Batmobile, Bruce sitting in the driver's seat. The car was on autopilot, and its driver stooping over Jason to staunch the bleeding in his knee. It was nearly impossible to breathe. Bruce watched as Jason gasped fruitlessly, eyes wide, neck taut. They needed to get that lung drained. The Car roared out of the tunnel, emerging into the immaculately cleaned cave where Alfred and Leslie had already patched together a medical welcome wagon.</p><p>Jason's vision remained particularly blurry, black edges now a seemingly permanent feature ingrained in his vision. People were talking, hallow mutters that never reached the comprehension area of his mind. It came back with sharpening clarity as he felt a jab in the crook of his elbow, barely noticeable past the agonizing stabs of pain as Leslie started assessing and planning. He let out a cry, suddenly aware of Bruce's hands on his shoulders, someone else's on his ankles.</p><p>"Easy Jason." Bruce whispered, pressing him down. Jason couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. It hurt. It hurt worse than before. "I know it hurts. Just keep your eyes on me. It'll be alright."</p><p>His mind couldn't handle it. The pain meds did their job.</p><p>Jason Peter Todd knew no more.</p><hr/><p>"How is he?"</p><p>"Leslie says he'll make a full recovery." Bruce replied hesitantly. "With time, and lots of rest."</p><p>Tim nodded. "Good. I went back to the scene of the crime... Found a crowbar in the dumpster. It had had faint traces of spray paint, purple, possibly the new Joker gang. Also had trace amounts of Jason's blood." He sounded just about the same way Bruce felt - sick.</p><p>But the brilliant Red Robin had more to say. "Bruce, according to the blood trail, he crawled nearly half a block. He could have called immediately, but he tried to get home. For some reason, he didn't <em>want</em> to call <em>us</em>. It's gonna get him killed one of these days. So I'd figure out why."</p><p>As Bruce fought back a wave of fury and stomach churning nausea, he nodded. Yes. He was going to get to the bottom of it.</p><p>For Jason.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>TBC</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason came back long before he could muster any sort of strength to peel his eyes open. His ribs were on fire, but his knee had settled on pestering him with a dull throbbing ache. The bed was soft, a comforter that smelled of spring time detergent nestled just under his nose. That was his first grand tip off. He was in the manor. The only person he knew that used that particular brand of detergent was one Alfred Pennyworth. Shifting, he gasped in discomfort, squeezing his eyes shut.</p><p>He heard the door crack, slippered feet padding lightly against the oak-wood flooring with repetitive little thuds. A heavy creak followed shortly after the steps stopped, probably the rickety metal medical chair they hauled wherever the injured person lay. A hand lightly gripped his. His wrist twitched, and he fought to crack one eye open. The effort did not go unnoticed. "Hey." Bruce rumbled, his hand releasing Jason's and lightly coming to rest on his shoulder. "How do you feel?"</p><p>"I'm fine." Jason answered automatically, voice hoarse and proving just how untrue that statement was. He didn't need to be babied... or kept around long enough to be deemed healthy enough to ship off to Arkham. "I'm good to-" He tried to sit up, paling of all color. His face drained off all color, turning white as painful stabs of pain ripped into his sides, head swimming. "Nnn..."</p><p>Bruce was on his feet in an instant. "Easy." He grabbed Jason behind the neck, another hand pressing against his upper chest as Bruce helped ease the injured nine-teen year old back down against the bed. "You're hurt. Bad." Jason focused on breathing, controlling the pain and fighting the urge to groan. "Do you think you can handle drinking something?"</p><p>With a shuddering breath, Jason nodded. Fighting a helpless scowl as Bruce helped support his head, holding a cup to his lips. The cool liquid soothed the ache, banishing the Sahara sands clinging to the back of his throat.</p><p>"You need to rest." Bruce told him. "And then we need to talk."</p><p>Apprehension swelled in Jason's chest, guilt flashing across his face as he broke eye contact. Arkham or Belle Reve? It really depended on how 'sane' the bat thought he was. "Not Arkham... Not again... <em>please</em>." He whispered. "I know... don't have a right to ask... but <em>He's </em>there."</p><p>Bruce looked momentarily horrified, just momentarily. It was almost as if he'd forgotten his stoic Batman facade. "You aren't going anywhere you don't want to, Jason." Bruce said with firm conviction that took Jason way off guard. He blinked in surprise as Bruce cupped a hand on the side of his face and let his calloused thumb scrape lightly across Jason's cheek. </p><p>Jason curled his fists into the comforter, shifting slightly. A wave of pain surged through his chest. Bruce saw his teeth clench, eyes shining with pain as he bit back a whimper.</p><p>"Easy, Jay." Bruce muttered, letting Jason crunch his knuckles together with no complaint. "Just breathe through it. We can give you more meds in a few minutes."</p><p>Jason bit his lip, inhaling sharply, stopping half way and wrapping his free arm around his ribs.</p><p>He was terrified of waking up, terrified that he'd be in Arkham. He purposely shifted, letting the pain wake his exhausted mind once more.</p>
<hr/><p>Jason woke the next time with a heavy congested chest. Every breath rasped, his throat ached, his mind could barely stay on one train of thought for more than a few seconds.</p><p>He breathed in, a fire igniting in his chest, lungs rebelling. He saw cracks in his vision as he erupted into a violent slew of coughs. The fit vanished, and Jason lay gasping. He let a pained tear slip from the corner of his eye.</p><p>His door flew open. Jason jumped, instantly regretting it, curling his arms around his chest and shuddering.</p><p>"Hey, hey." It wasn't Bruce, but Dick. The oldest bird was gentle in unprying Jason's arms from his battered chest. </p><p>"St...sto...nnn." </p><p>"Shh. Take it easy." Dick pushed his arms down, hand coming up and brushing Jason's bangs from his dull green eyes. The oldest bird's brow furrowed, letting his hand come fully to rest.</p><p>Jason tried to turn away from the touch, but Dick wasn't budging. "You're burning up, little wing."</p><p>"Hdn't guessed..." Jason slurred, trying not to breathe deeply.</p><p>"I'm gonna go get you a cold compress and some more pain meds."</p><p>Jason hummed, not really bothering to comprehend what Dick had said. He was gonna before the big bird returned.</p>
<hr/><p>"Nnn...Not...goin' back..." Jason gasped, shifting restlessly. Bruce stood watching quietly as Dick mopped the sweat away from Jason's brow.</p><p>"He's getting worse."</p><p>"He was soaked when we found him." Bruce replied, gripping Jason's hand. "I should have seen it coming..." Bruce pressed his lips together. Jason was mumbling about never ending laughter, Arkham. </p><p>"Did you visit him?"</p><p>Dick paused, glancing at Bruce with a wary gaze.</p><p>"When?"</p><p>"In Arkham."</p><p>Dick paled a little, staring down at his little brother with a troubled gaze."No. I... I got busy, and-"</p><p>Bruce stood up, setting a file down on Jason's nightstand. "If you <em>had</em> followed up, you would have discovered that your highly traumatized little brother was put five doors down from the Joker."</p><p>Dick dropped the rag in the bucket with a wet plop, losing what was left of his palor. "I-"</p><p>"Save it." Bruce left the Arkham files on the nightstand when he left.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>TBC:</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">I figured it was time to update some of the old stories now that "<em>The Batarang that Sliced the Red Hood's Neck" Has come to its epic conclusion. (Another of my Jason-Centric fics). I'd like to point out that this story is in no way linked to that one.</em></span></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u"> <em>It's in a world all on its own. I'm going to continue this fic in shorter chapters, hopefully with frequent updates. Thanks to all who've been keeping tabs on this story and left reviews. There's lots yet to come.</em> </span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u"> <em>-B00DR4v3n</em> </span> </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dick couldn't bring himself to touch the file Bruce had dropped on the nightstand, choosing instead to collapse into the chair perched next to Jason's bed. Guilt had settled firmly in his gut, horror tightening his chest. What had he done?</p><p>Hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed Jason's shoulder, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Hey, Jay. Dunno if you can hear me... But Bruce is mad at me. You'd be amused." Jason stirred restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position amidst a powerful wave of pain that bothered him even in oblivion. "Or maybe ticked off. You never did like us meddling." His brother hummed incoherently.</p><p>"I... I'm a crap brother." Dick finally admitted. "You are too. But I'm the worst of it." The first boy wonder admitted. Dread coiled in his gut. "I didn't know what to do. I was at the end of my rope; and throwing you in Arkham... it... It was an easy solution. For me." He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't think I've been a good brother to you. In fact I know I haven't. I don't have anyone else to blame but myself."</p><p>Jason stopped stirring, instead mumbling, looking agitated. A defeated look crossed his face, more mumbling. Then his expression turned broken as a gasp left his lips. His head shifted away from Dick as a tear glimmered down his cheek.</p><p>"Jay?"</p><hr/><p>Jason opened his eyes, trying to move. For some reason, it hurt; like someone was pressing hundreds of needles into his side and head, like Zitka was sitting on his chest, making it hard to breathe.</p><p>When the hazy world came into focus, he was staring at a featureless white ceiling. "He's finally awake." A cold voice huffed to his right. Dick was sitting there, in a metal collapsible chair.</p><p>"Dick." Jason murmured, trying to move. He glanced down, seeing thick cloth restraints holding his arms against a medical bed. "I knew it." He whispered, looking at Dick face for any sign of remorse. Of course there wouldn't be any. "Arkham."</p><p>"You're a crap brother." Dick stated, face emotionless. It felt like a stab to the gut. He'd been trying to be better, to answer calls and be there when one of the birds needed a pick me up. Sure, he was abrasive, a bit obnoxious; but a crap brother? He looked away, still trying to tug free. "You're the worst." Dick added, derision lacing his tone. Jason flinched. "I'm at the end of my rope, and I don't have anyone to blame, but you."</p><p>It felt like a punch to the gut. He knew he was forever at odds with his brother; but now he knew, knew that Dick hated him. It's why he'd been dropped into Arkham... again. He couldn't be back here. The Joker had already been whispering at night, threats, promises that his precious 'Jaybird' wouldn't be allowed to die this time. Panic seized him, breaths not coming in at full strength.</p><p>"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm trying to be better-"</p><p>"Save it." Dick stood up, turning to leave.</p><p>"Please don't leave me here! Not again!" Jason shouted -pleaded-, tugging hard against the restraints. "Please! Please! Dick, don't leave me with him!"</p><hr/><p>"Please." Jason whispered, shifting hard enough to aggravate his wounds. He didn't even seem to notice, trying to kick free as if he was tied down. "Please..." He murmured something unintelligibly. "Dick, don't leave me with him!"</p><p>He fought to sit up, panic seizing Dick's chest. <em>Don't leave me with him.</em> The words had seared Dick's brain, allowed horror and guilt to rage havoc in his chest. He shoved it away, figuring that Jason was living out some hell and trapped in his mind. Carefully, he helped Jason sit up, pulling him close and wrapping two heavy arms around his chest.</p><p>"Shh." He soothed, tears dripping down his own cheeks, sympathy for his brother's misery, guilt at having caused it. "You're okay. I'm not sending you back. I'm not sending you to Arkham. You're safe."</p><p>Jason didn't make any sign of hearing him, but he'd gone still. Dick hoped the sudden shift of his body would dislodge the grip his dream had on his mind. Another tear dripped down Jason's cheek, and the first robin wiped it away.</p><p>"He never stops." Jason whispered, clearly mumbling some more. "Always laughs. Whispers to me." Jason flinched in Dick's arms. "He's not gonna let me die." Dick's stomach bottomed. He felt like throwing up. Jason was burning up, a mini raging inferno, for once not in spirit but in body. "Told me... he's gonna." Jason shivered, voice dropping. Dick was glad. He couldn't imagine what obscenities Joker had uttered.</p><p>"Shh." Dick shushed him, letting his chin rest on his little brother's head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I left you... I'm sorry." Tears flowed freely down both of their cheeks, Jason still trapped in some hell conjured up by his fevered mind; Dick reliving every moment of his failure. He deserved to suffer for it. That much he whole-heartedly believed.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Hey Folks! So. Short chapter, and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. He was trapped in a fever dream though, which is typical for someone suffering ptsd, in a stressful environment. So anyhow.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>For those of you who followed '<em>The Batarang' That sliced the Red Hood's Neck (</em>And any who like Jason Centric fics), I've posted the first chapter of the sequel. It's a work revolving around his and Dick's first steps as proper brothers who actually ACT like they care. That's where most of my creative steam from today and yesterday got channeled. You can check it out with the link below. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Thanks to all who are following this story. I <em>seriously</em> appreciate your support! </strong>
</p><p>(My new story: Broken Minds and Mending the Hurt) (Part 2 of <span class="u">Batfamily: Mending Broken Hearts and Broken Minds</span> Series.)(Can be read stand alone) <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343078/chapters/58698994">https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343078/chapters/58698994 </a></p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was being tied down in Arkham, Dick looming over him to rub in Jason's defeat. But rather than being flat on his back, Jason was inclined slightly, warm arms wrapped around his back and chest, cheek pressed into someone's shoulder. Someone's chin was resting on his head, and Jason suddenly felt very trapped, claustrophobic almost. His cheeks were sticky, dried salt giving away the fact that Jason had been sobbing... and it revealed it to himself no less. He couldn't remember. He was sweating, his fever broken. He wanted to be let go. The raging furnace next to him was probably going to bring his fever back, and his ribs were stabbing him in strange ways that made him sick with pain.</p><p>He was about to protest, about to demand that his captor let him go, but a sniffle caught him off guard. "I'm <em>so </em>sorry, Jay."</p><p>Dick.</p><p>The eye roll came as second nature, but Jason had to admit he was curious as to why the oldest bird, the infallible Golden boy was apologizing. He stayed quiet, letting the warm scent of cinnamon be a comfort rather than a fear. He wasn't in Arkham, but... they still might send him once he could defend himself.</p><p>Dick's arms tightened.</p><p>"For what?" Jason huffed, spewing the question out in one breath to avoid putting pressure on his ribs. The arms tightened in surprise, Dick tensing. Rather than be set down, Jason was pulled closer as Dick gently yet firmly tightened his grip.</p><p>"You're awake!"</p><p>"Unfortunately." Jason replied. "Nn... Mind... easing up... Dick?"</p><p>The arms went lax, a hand going to the back of his neck and easing him back against the bed. Jason blinked owlishly up at his older 'brother'. The twenty-something -Jason had purposely not bothered to check- looked like a wreck, tears running down his cheeks.</p><p>"What'rya sorry for... B'rd brain?"</p><p>Dick's formerly excited gaze crumpled, and he sat back, putting good distance between them for Jay's sake... or quite possibly his own neck. "Ah... Well..."</p><p>"Dick."</p><p>"You know you didn't deserve it right?"</p><p>Jason's stomach churned as he narrowed his eyes slightly. "What?" He growled, more intoning that he didn't know <em>what </em>he apparently didn't deserve. There were plenty of things. He didn't deserve his freedom. He didn't deserve this kindness. He didn't expect it to last anyway.</p><p>"Arkham." Dick breathed, not meeting his little brother's gaze. "You didn't deserve being in there... with <em>him.</em> I'm sorry. I-"</p><p>"I broke the rule..." Jason swallowed to wet his throat and make talking easier. "Killed people.... S'how it works, Dick."</p><p>"<em>No.</em>" Dick growled. "I..." He ran a hand down his face. "I was overwhelmed, and I... I didn't do the right thing. I mean, yes, you needed reprimanding but-"</p><p>"You couldn't have stopped me."</p><p>"<em>I could have at least visited!"</em> Dick snapped, instantly recoiling when Jason went wide eyed. "I'm sorry. I..." He closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. "I left you in there with <em>him.</em> I'll never forgive myself for it. And you shouldn't either."</p><p>Jason looked away. Did he deserve it? Yes. Did he appreciate Dick for it? Absolutely not. He steadied his older brother with a look. "Well that's good... cause I don't."</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>TBC</strong>
</p><p>Really REALLY short chapter. I hope to maybe update again today, but I had a burst of creative energy. So hopefully I can roll out another Chapter this afternoon.</p><p>I managed to roll out the last chapter of <span class="u">The Chaos That Binds:</span> So I'm super excited to have that story finished. Now I'm going to focus on some of my other ones that need updating.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason had been trying to drift off. There was no getting comfortable with cracked ribs and a bruised back. Even with pain meds, he was still in absolute agony. It didn't help that he had a cold. For the most part, not talking helped with the coughing, but his nose was constantly running and his head felt stuffy.</p><p>He was a ball of misery, and had finally convinced everyone to just get out of his room for a while. He couldn't handle Dick's carefully crafted facade, designed only to mask the guilt they both knew he harbored. And at this moment, he was too prone towards exploding at Bruce and ripping old wounds open. He didn't want to be here, and his anger was currently at the forefront of his mind.</p><p>He'd been alone for about ten minutes before the door opened again. Jason blinked, anger coiling in his chest when he saw who they sent. With a lap top in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other, the freaking replacement strode in like he owned the place. Jason frowned. To be fair. Jason didn't own the place either. Which is why he hated the manor. He warily opened his eyes, fixing Tim with a wary scowl.</p><p>Tim ignored him, stumbling in and plopping down heavily on the chair. He opened his laptop and started pecking away, otherwise ignoring Jason. Which, in the second Robin's opinion, was just fine. He closed his eyes, trying to get comfortable, and gasping when his ribs twinged. Tim glanced at him over the computer, raising an eyebrow slightly.</p><p>"What?" Jason growled.</p><p>"Oh nothing." Tim glanced down at his computer, fingers pecking away again. "I'm looking for leads on the Jokers."</p><p>Jason scoffed, instantly regretting it. </p><p>"So far, nothing." Tim continued. "The uh..." He crinkled his brow while Jason leveled him with a flat look. "<em>Weapon </em>they used didn't have any prints. Just purple paint and..."</p><p>"My blood."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Jason flinched, wrinkling his nose and leaning back against the pillows. Tim said nothing more for a long moment, face buried behind the lap top.</p><p>Jason knew the kid was checking up on the case, trying to figure things out. He'd grudgingly admit that he liked Tim's work ethic. Respected it even. Sure, the kid getting the R had hurt, but now even Tim had felt the sting of being fired... At the hands of the big brother no less... It made it hard to hate the third Robin.</p><p>He closed his eyes. Trying to recall was difficult. It had been a whirlwind of trauma and flashbacks. He'd dissociated for a majority of it, feeling every blow but seeing the joker's face.</p><p>The faces were blurry, his brain's attempt to blot it out. But then a flash-</p><p>"There were six." Jason whispered. Tim stilled, scrutinizing gaze settling on the second Robin's face.</p><p>"Ringleader... A girl." Jason continued. "4'6, good with a gun..." He closed his eyes. He could feel the crowbar slamming into his jaw, shattering his helmet. He twitched. "Purple hair... Piercings... Six in her right ear... Green heart tattooed on her neck... Others had..." He swallowed thickly. He imagined another hit. "Masks." He gasped out.</p><p>Tim nodded. "That helps."</p><p>Jason closed his eyes, trying to get the snipits from replaying in his head, trying to avoid the flashbacks that brought phantom pains right alongside them.</p><p>He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut. <em>It was worth it.</em> He told himself, chest constricting. </p><p>When he opened his eyes, he was in Ethiopia, tile floor biting into his shoulders and back, ropes biting into his wrists. He opened them again and he was in an alley, surrounded by nameless, blurry faces with guns aimed at him, keeping him submissive.</p><p>
  <em>"I just can't wait to be king!"</em>
</p><p>A steady thump on his thigh that wasn't there in the memories. A freaking Disney movie wasn't either. He jumped and gasped as his eyes snapped open.</p><p>The Television at the end of his bed was on... volume cranked up and playing The Lion King. Tim was awkwardly patting his leg, to draw him back from the bad memories.</p><p>"You okay? You zoned out."</p><p>"How long?" Jason rasped out, fighting to get his breathing under control. His jaw hurt. Tim must have hit him in an early attempt to rouse him. </p><p>"A minute and forty seconds." Tim stated factually, but there was an undertone of worry. "You don't need to push yourself. That's not why I popped in here... Just figured you'd like someone who didn't treat you like glass."</p><p>And Jason could appreciate the sentiment. Tim still tapped his leg every three seconds exactly, a distraction. Jason made his mouth and tongue work again. "Thanks." The kid nodded, pulling his hand back and picking his laptop back up.</p><p>Tim went silent again, not even looking as he pointed the remote and turned the volume down.</p><p>Jason frowned for a moment, before huffing quietly. "Hey Timbers."</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"Find them... And take them <em>down." </em>Jason growled.</p><p>A ghost of a smile flickered on Tim's face.</p><p>"With <em>pleasure</em>."</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Hey guys! This isn't one of my USUAL Author notes. Why? Because it DOESN'T involve me. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>There's a group on YouTube called the Red Hood Fan Series. They do professional quality videos and are currently finished with season 2. They also have a mini series about Domestic life with Damian and Jason being purely brothers, though I'd watch a few episodes of season one first.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>They have an awesome mix of Angst, Batfamily, big bro Jason Todd, and Humor. It's really good, and this group needs all the support they can get!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>It revolves largely around Red Hood, but has a good dose of Damian Wayne and Tim Drake. The fighting is on par, as are the video affects.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Please PLEASE check them out! You can visit their YouTube channel at this address.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCq-0ZJeZQ99fS8CiF6nBlgg">https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCq-0ZJeZQ99fS8CiF6nBlgg</a> </strong>
</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason woke up when the a metal tray hit his nightstand. He jumped hard enough that fire ignited in his sides.</p><p>"Oh dear, I'm quite sorry, Master Jason." Alfred sighed, sitting on the edge of Jason's bed.</p><p>"S'okay Alfie." Jason sighed tiredly. He eyed the assortment of bandages, gauze, and disinfectant. A small breath escaped his lungs. "Now?"</p><p>"I'm afraid so. I shall need help, as you are still to weak to sit up unaided...But I'll leave who that help is to you. Both Master Bruce and Master Dick are available."</p><p>Jason blanched quietly, looking away. </p><p>Bruce made him queasy. Just being in the bat's general vicinity made him sick to his stomach... Or too angry to think straight. He had problems, problems with the pit in his blood. He didn't want to try and deal with his guilt or his anger while Alfred was rebandaging his highly sensative wounds.</p><p>Dick? Jason couldn't handle the self loathing. That was just as bad.</p><p>"The replacement around?" Alfred raised a dissaproving eyebrow, steely gaze holding his. "Tim." Jason amended meekly.</p><p>"I shall go see."</p><p>Alfred rose to his feet, shuffling off. Jason closed his eyes, letting his mind go blank for but a moment. He could hear Alfred a few doors down.</p><p>
  <em>"Master Timothy, I need some help in changing, Master Jason's bandages. I don't suppose I could enlist you?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Sure, Alfie." </em>
</p><p>Why Tim had so willingly agreed? Jason couldn't fathom.</p><p>
  <em>"Very good."</em>
</p><p>Jason opened his eyes when both Alfred and Tim stepped back into his room. Tim was studying him intently.</p><p>"What am I doing?" He asked carefully. </p><p>"I need you to hold Master Jason up while I change the bandage on his ribs." Alfred replied, gesturing to his tray of medical equipment. "It's much easier for him to lean on someone other than the person wrapping the tape."</p><p>"Got it." Tim rounded the bed, crawling on top of it and padding across on hands and knees. He was nowhere near as big as Bruce or Dick, but he was wiry enough to keep Jason propped up.</p><p>He raised a pointed eyebrow at Jason, who shot him a half exasperated look. "Look who I get to hug today." Tim snarked, hand slipping under Jason's neck. </p><p>"Watch it-" Jason gasped as Alfred moved in to help Tim sit him up. "Agh- pint size."</p><p>"Maybe don't talk." Tim hummed, letting Jason sag against him, but leaving enough space for Alfred to work the bandages. Jason grit his teeth as Alfred undid the white tape holding his destroyed ribs in place. There were spots swimming in his eyes from the simple act of sitting up; but he'd refrain from wprrying Alfred with those details.</p><p>Slowly the itchy white bandages pulled away, and Jason's chest ached. In his mirror, Jason could see the horrific bruises on his chest. The sight reinforced the pain.</p><p>Without realizing it, he'd drawn in a raspy breath, letting his head sag forward. Tim was putting as minimal contact between them as he humanly could, but when Jason shuddered, Tim squeezed the shoulder he was clutching in comfort.</p><p>Replacing the bandages was just as painful, and he was gasping in pain long before Alfred had finished.</p><p>"You know-" Tim hummed conversationally as a distraction. "I found your old Wii. Beat all your highscores."</p><p>"You did..." Jason gasped. "Not."</p><p>"Wanna bet?" Tim asked, flashing him a smile, all teeth. "Mr. Bird."</p><p>Jason glared at him, as best he could. Of course Tim had. Just knowing Jay's username was proof of that.</p><p>"The only highscore I couldn't quite beat was Zombie Plant. Kinda ironic." Tim added.</p><p>"Gue-guess so." Jason breathed as Alfred tied the last not.</p><p>"We can lay him back now." The old butler stated. His hand gripped the nape of Jason's neck as Tim held his left shoulder and right lower back, leaning over Jason to reach.</p><p>Jason let out a sigh as his back hit the sheets again.</p><p>Alfred moved down to his knee. The second robin couldn't lie. He'd been pretty curious about the damage to <em>that.</em> There weren't many places for a bullet to go.</p><p>"My kneecap?" He quieried breathlessly.</p><p>"Still present and accounted for. They missed." Alfred replied, gently undoing the bandage and plucking the gauze pad away. Tim took a look, paling slightly.</p><p>"Barely."</p><p>Alfred shot the third robin a sharp look.</p><p>"Give it to me straight." Jason mumbled, not looking at all convinced anymore. He strained to look at it, but Tim's hand pressed against his forehead.</p><p>"It's a girl." The third robin deadpanned.</p><p>The second snorted, despite the stab of pain in his sides.</p><p>"Master Timothy!" </p><p>"Sorry, Alfie. I couldn't resist."</p><p>"Hmph. well, master Jason, your knee cap was not shattered, but Ms. Leslie says there was significant trauma to the joint. Your healing has done quite a bit of work in that regards, but we are uncertain if it will ever hold up to your... Nightly activities. At the very least, you're looking at months, if not a year or more of physical therapy."</p><p>Jason felt like the air had been shoved out of the room. Months? A year? Possibly more? He grit his teeth. </p><p>He wouldn't be staying that long. </p><p>He'd make sure of that.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Tbc</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>This is really short, I know. But it's... Twelve and I need sleep. So I hope it wasn't too boring. I also haven't updated anything in a while, but I really wanted to. So... Plot twist? Sort of? </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>(Behold! The disjointed thoughts of a rambling writing Zombie.)</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>(I need sleep)</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>(Sleeeeeeeeep.)</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>XD</strong>
</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They say Brooding is the batman's gig. But Jason had picked a thing or two up from the old bat-bozo who roamed Gotham's darkest alleys. He knew having a rotten attitude about current events wasn't going to actually fix them. But while yes, the poor denizens of Gotham were a source of the clan's pity... no one got pitied more by the clan... than the clan.</p><p>They were the kings of self pity, wallowing in their misery and taking out the hard feelings on the criminal scumbags lurking in the city's dark. And while normally, most self pity got channeled more constructively through the jaws of the sinister crime lords occupying Gotham, Jason had no such outlet. He was stuck in bed with a shattered rib cage and a bum knee that, in all likelihood, was a goner. Sure, Leslie's prognosis for general range of movement had been <em>good,</em> but it wasn't walking to work Jason was worried about.</p><p>No, he was concerned for the only thing that made him who he was. Without the Red Hood, he was a husk. Jason Todd had died overseas, battered, holding onto pathetically idiotic hope that he'd be rescued in time. In that boy's place was a machine, revived, angry, tough. He was built to fight, built to tear apart criminal empires and ensure the safety of those who suffered. It was his whole purpose, everything that made him who he was. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, had based everything he was on a goal. And if he couldn't complete that goal, what was he?</p><p>The old Todd didn't mind the occasional sick day, enjoying a movie marathon with Bruce. Heck the old Todd would have gotten along splendidly with Tim. He'd have loved having a little brother. But then he'd gotten 'sick in the head.' Know he was viewed as an enigma, either treaded around with extreme caution, or loathed secretly in the hearts of his so called family. No one knew what to do with him or how to treat him. </p><p>He wasn't at all prepared for a 'few months to a year' cooped up with the craziest and most unconventional clan in Gotham. He didn't think he could handle Bruce's face, or Dick's guilt complex, or Damian's derision. Sure, he could probably handle Tim. The kid seemed to have a level head; and unlike the other brooders in the Wayne-family, he didn't make Jason's stomach twist in knots at the mere sight. That didn't mean he felt like spending any quality time with the replacement though.</p><p>As he stared at the immaculately cleaned ceiling, Jason pursed his lips and pondered. There had to be a way out. Maybe the window? Sure the security feed would pick him up, but it was only so far to the garage. He could steal one of Bruce's luxury cars and ram through the gates. But ramming through the gates hardly seemed like a good idea considering the sheer number of shattered bones in his sides alone. He cringed at the thought. <em>What are you, Jason? Nuts? Time for plan B</em>.</p><p>Jason pressed his lips together, taking a shallow breath. He could try and sneak into the batcave while everyone was on patrol tonight. Someone was bound to have a spare vehicle laying around that he could commandeer for his hastily scrounged up plan. Alfred might try to stop him, but if he was quiet enough- He shook his head. Bruce wouldn't have his renegade son plugged into the cave security protocols. he'd be locked out without a doubt. </p><p>He could always try the front door. But there was just one problem with all of his quickly cobbled together ideas. The Lazarus juices in his blood could only work so fast; and he wasn't strong enough to even sit, much less attempt an escape from bat-heck.</p><p>Groaning, he slammed his fists into the bed, regretting it instantly as he coughed and jostled his ribs. A muffled whimper tried to claw its way from his mouth, halted by sheer determination and will power. He hated being an invalid, stuck at the mercy of others, stuck at the mercy of those who'd treated him like utter dirt for years now. What was their motive for this 'change of heart?' Or had they really changed at all? In his perspective, no one ever really changed. Well no. People changed, but rarely for the better. It would make sense if Bruce was only doing it to lure him into some false security, patch him up and then ship him off to Arkham with no fuss. Or perhaps it was a guilt complex. Maybe they were only being nice because they felt bad. But that hardly made sense.</p><p>Bruce was a liar. About so many gosh darn things. So Jason had no qualms believing that Bruce had plans to send him off to a nice padded cell to have his mind muddled by drugs and clown laughter.</p><p>That thought determined Jason's resolve. Perhaps he'd break more bones trying. But he was leaving.</p><p>And soon.</p><hr/><p>OKAY, it has been way too long since an update. And this is largely introspection. But I needed to get a feel for my own writing again. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!</p><p>Also, name change! I'm now the Silver__Hawk</p>
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